


summer 1933

by ah_choo (klarkson)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, M/M, Murder Mystery, Mythology - Freeform, TW: some blood, Unbeta'd, i forgot how to write in english
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 01:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11094240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klarkson/pseuds/ah_choo
Summary: Jihoon comes back from studying in Japan and is met with harsh reality - there's no job for him. Struggling with last bits of his savings, he rents a room at some old lady's place. Turns out the other room is occupied by a mysterious handsome man.





	1. summer 1933

**Author's Note:**

> **warning** : this is set in 1930's, meaning japanese occupation of korea. there might be historical inaccuracies, because i'm too ~~lazy~~ busy right now to do a proper research
> 
> i'm finally back with another fic!! i wrote it instead of studying for my exam tomorrow, so i hope it's at least decent... got inspired while trying to write my essay about korean literature during the occupation, such a pity i can't turn this fic in instead,,,,  
> anyway, enjoy!

Jihoon opens the window of his small stuffy room. It doesn’t help that much, because it’s summer and the air outside is equally hot, but it’s a little bit fresher as the evening is slowly approaching.

Another day wasted on looking for job and failing.

The man finds a half-emptied pack of the cheapest cigarettes in his pocket and looks around his room to locate a pack of matches laying under the table. Kneeling down he opens the container, but sees only already used matches, nothing he can light up his cigarette with. He swears under his breath and gets up, brushing the dust off his knees. Only now he sees how dirty is the floor – right, he didn’t have time to sweep it past weeks. But today he’s too lazy to do it, so he just notes in his mind that he needs to ask his landlady for some broomstick.

 _Ask somebody_. Right.

Looking at his pack of cigarettes he remembers a few days ago someone new moved in to the room beside his. He only saw a tall figure talking to the old lady, and grew a little curious about the man, but didn’t see him since that time. Asking him about matches will be beneficial in two ways.

Jihoon adjusts his wrinkled shirt, stuffs the cigarettes into his pocket again and goes out of his room to knock at the neighbouring ones. He waits, not hearing any sound from inside and wants to go back again, but suddenly the door opens and he has to look way up to meet the gaze of the other man.

And what a man it is.

Starting from his sharp gaze, dark eyes looking down at him with literally no emotion, then his hair, tidy and styled (unlike the oily mess on Jihoon’s head), his skin that looks like it’s glowing, his sharp features and finally finishing at his tall and proportional body.

For two seconds Jihoon forgets what he came for.

“Um. Do you have some matches? I don’t have any and I need a cig.”

The man looks at him for a while more, maybe a little contemplating, before nodding and going inside to retrieve a small box. He gives it to Jihoon without a word.

“Thank you. I’m Lee Jihoon by the way,” he introduces himself with a small bow. He expects the man to reply with his own name, but he’s met with silence again. He doesn’t look like he’ll introduce himself anytime soon. “Uh. I will return these in a moment,” he says, shaking the box of matches a little. He turns around to go back to his own room but a sudden but soft voice stops him.

“No need,” the man says and Jihoon turns his head quickly, only to see the door close.

For the rest of the evening he sits by his desk on the old chair which has one leg shorter than the others, deep in thought as he fiddles the little box in his fingers, forgetting completely what he borrowed it for.

***

Another day, another fruitless job searching. “We don’t need someone like you,” he hears again. One company boss asks him if he can weld. He says no. The man sighs and tells him to get some _real_ skills before coming and asking for a job.

It’s not like he didn’t know it would be like this. But his pride didn’t let him do anything else.

He comes from a small fishing village, his parents knowing nothing more than anything that’s connected to fishing. But they wanted the best for him; saved all of their money to get him going to school, and even asked their friends or neighbours for a little money so they could send Jihoon to a university. _In Japan_. He doesn’t know how they did it, but they gathered the money and he could continue his studies.

It was hard for him at first. He knew Japanese, of course he knew, he went to school- But actually living and studying in a foreign country was difficult. He made a promise to himself: to work hard, and after studies to come back to Korea, go to Seoul and find a job that will give him enough money to repay his parents.

But in Seoul they don’t have any job for him. And he’s too proud to just go anywhere, to work in a factory like people who only finished their mandatory years of school.

This day he ends up in some shady place with cheap tasteless food and alcohol that will make you sick faster than drunk. He sips on his awful beer and listens to other men talking. The bits of their conversations mix, and Jihoon’s not paying attention to which words belong where. When his mind starts wandering, thinking about maybe going to another city to try, maybe further north, Kaesong or even Pyeongyang, he’s brought back to this moment with one man talking louder than the others, his voice clear in between the noise.

“I’m telling you, that guy is a psycho. Who would kill and take the victim’s heart out of their chest?”

“What happened?” Another man sitting by the nearby table asks him.

“Someone murdered a boy that was working in that clothes factory near the river,” the first man explains. “Left his body behind the building without a heart. Can you imagine?”

“I wouldn’t hesitate to beat him to pulp if I met him. Crazy bastard.”

“That was a Japanese, for sure! They hate us to this extent...”

Jihoon finishes his beer and stands up, the talk about the murder becoming an unrecognizable mumble when he walks out into the night. _A murder, huh?_ _Hopefully no one will kill me this night then_ , he chuckles to himself as he makes his way back in the dark.

Coming back to his room he notices door to his neighbour’s room half opened. He doesn’t mean to be nosy or anything, but he just happens to see a glimpse of the tall man sitting with his back to the entrance. Jihoon lingers for a second, seeing how despite the room being neat there are lots of books laying around, some opened, some crumpled.

But he lingers a bit too long, as the man turns his head and catches him staring.

Jihoon runs to his room with cheeks flushed, certainly not from alcohol.

***

Next day passes and still no job for him. Jihoon does math in his head, realizing he’ll probably won’t be able to pay rent for the next month if he doesn’t find anything soon. Starting to think about getting some temporary job, he buys a newspaper, hoping he’ll find something there.

Instead he finds out there’s been another murder.

Sitting on a bench in the scorching noon sun he immerses himself in lecture. Another young boy found dead. No heart. No blood around. No other wounds. No evidence.

Last night he just let it slide. But now he’s intrigued – and maybe a little bit scared. But he’s always been curious, too curious for his parents and teachers liking.

Lost in thought he goes back to his place. At the stairs he meets the owner of this house. She’s a nice old lady, always wearing traditional clothes even if the majority of people already started to wear more western clothing. She didn’t mention it to him, but Jihoon can guess her son is currently in prison. Her husband died years ago, and renting rooms is the only thing that brings her money.

“Jihoon!” She says with a smile.

“Good afternoon.”

“Could you ask Kim Mingyu to come talk to me? I haven’t see him for a while and I have to talk to him, but going upstairs is too difficult for me now.”

“Kim Mingyu?” Jihoon asks.

“Oh, that tall man living in the room beside yours.”

 _So the face has a name,_ he thinks, _and it’s equally beautiful_.

He nods and climbs up the stairs, taking two at one time. He has to wait for a while so his breath goes back to normal (his physical condition was at it’s peak about one year ago, and then started falling down really quick) before knocking.

This time he doesn’t have to wait that long before the door creaks open and the man looks down at him with his piercing stare again. He looks like he was ready to go out.

“Uh. Mrs. Oh says that she wants to talk to you.”

The man nods and walks past him. Jihoon wants to stop him, but not really knowing why or what should he say, so he doesn’t do that.

 _Why are you so interested in him?_ He asks himself as he goes to his room and finds the box of matches. He takes out his last cigarette and lits it up thoughtfully. There’s something about that Kim Mingyu. Some aura, you can say? That makes him want to know that man better. But as curious as he is, Jihoon is not the best at making random acquaintances and small talk with strangers. Breathing the smoke out, he thinks that him being so breathtakingly beautiful also makes him want to know him better.

 _You’re pathetic, Lee Jihoon_ , he thinks.

***

He’s at the bar again, this time with his friend Seungcheol. They initially met because Jihoon wanted to ask if there’s no job for him at the newspaper Seungcheol works for, but now they’re tipsy and there’s a girl leaning on Seungcheol’s shoulder. Jihoon’s not sure if she’s a prostitute or not, but he’s sure his friend is taking her home for the night. He looks so eager to do it, Jihoon doesn’t want to stop him.

“I’ll head home,” he says getting up.

“No!” Seungcheol grabs his hand. “Are you crazy? You can’t go alone, you’ll get murdered!”

Jihoon chuckles.

“Don’t be silly, I’m not gonna get killed.”

“I’m still worried! We will walk you home!”

The girl doesn’t seem so happy about it, but the three of them walks out of bar in the direction of Jihoon’s home. He feels like an intruder between his friend and the girl, but Seungcheol keeps saying that he has to protect his best friend from murderers wanting his heart, and there’s no way to tell him that he would be fine alone. It’s already long past midnight.

When they finally get to the building, the girl that has been giggling at something Seungcheol said suddenly stops and becomes serious.

“That’s- there’s a lot of bad energy here.”

Two men look at her questioningly.

“My grandma is a _mudang_ , she deals with the spirits all the time. And I can sense if something is not right. In this case, it’s like this house is covered all in black clouds.

Jihoon and Seungcheol look at each other before bursting in laughter.

“You drank too much my dear,” the oldest of them says. “Let’s get home and leave Jihoon with this dark energy alone.”

“I’m serious!” She protests, but Seungcheol’s grip on her waist tightens and he leans to her side to whisper something that makes her blush furiously. They are on their way in no time.

Jihoon comes to his room, still amused from the things the girl said, but at the same time something weird settles in his chest. Like a rock in his shoe, small but still uncomfortable. He tries to shake off the nagging feeling when he bumps into someone in the corridor.

 _Someone_.

His hair is a mess this time, the white shirt with sleeves rolled up over his elbows wrinkled and he looks genuinely surprised at the sight of his neighbour.

The alcohol somehow destroyed the filter between Jihoon’s brain and mouth, so he ends up saying the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Why are you always so handsome?”

If the man was surprised earlier, now he’s really taken aback. Jihoon feels his cheeks burning. Oh no.

“Nevermind, goodnight,” he says and tries to go to his room, but Kim Mingyu grabs his wrist so he turns around, and suddenly captures his lips with his own.

This is surely not a thing he was expecting. Hell, he wouldn’t even _dare_ to expect something like this.

And yet he was, Kim Mingyu’s lips pressed against his firmly.

After a few seconds the man starts to pull back, but Jihoon quickly grabs his collar to bring him back and deepen the kiss. Mingyu puts his hands on Jihoon’s hips so his body is heating up even more. Jihoon’s neck starts to hurt from craning his head up, but he doesn’t mind as Mingyu’s tongue slides past his own.

It’s hot, their breaths blend together and Jihoon can swear he’s never felt so good before.

Then, Mingyu pulls back.

He looks at Jihoon with unreadable emotions on his face. Maybe something close to… guilt? Regret?

“Sorry,” he says before storming out of the house.

Jihoon is left panting in the corridor, confused more than before. He leans on the wall and wonders what does all of that mean.

***

It’s a miracle he wakes up before seven o’clock. His head hurts only a little, but still enough to make him uncomfortable, and his throat feels so dry it could be confused with sandpaper.

Last night Seungcheol told him to come to his newspaper building at eight, so he has enough time to wash up and even eat something before heading out.

The memories of last night are not leaving his mind.

Why did Kim Mingyu kiss him? They were strangers. Like, _total_ strangers. They met what, two times? And never properly talked. Why did Kim Mingyu left so abruptly? Did he feel bad with what he did? Was kissing Jihoon not satisfying enough? Because at that moment he thought it felt equally good for them both. Was he fine with kissing a man or not?

Jihoon needs answers, but he doesn’t know how to get them.

Looking at his pocket watch, he concludes he should be going now. While passing by their landlady’s room at the ground floor, he can’t help but hear a bit of what she says.

“You promised. You know I let you live here just because you did.”

There’s a male voice replaying to her and it makes Jihoon’s breath hitch.

“It’s not that easy,” Kim Mingyu says quietly.

“You knew it won’t be.”

As much as his curiosity wants him to stay there and listen, his conscience makes him go out and head to tram stop. Fortunately the tram comes just after a minute of his waiting, and there isn’t many people, so he sits comfortably (or as comfortably as it can get) and tries to figure out what that bit of a conversation meant.

Nothing that makes sense comes to his mind. Maybe it’s too early, maybe his body still hasn’t recovered from yesterday’s dose of alcohol.

***

Seungcheol’s boss of course does the same thing any other employer he talked to: rejects him. But at least he has the decency to recommend him another place.

“It’s a Japanese newspaper,” he says. “You studied in Tokio, they should look at you better.”

He nods and notes down the address the man gives him. Fortunately it’s not far away, only a few blocks, so he can go there by feet. He goes there with heavy heart. It’s not like he doesn’t want to… But even if he studied in Japan, he wanted to work in Korea, for Koreans. However now he should try with everything. Maybe if he wasn’t that proud he would try manual labour… But he wasn’t doing that.

The boss at that newspaper is an elderly, smiley Japanese man. He’s very glad hearing about Jihoon’s studies.

“You came to the right place,” he tells him. “You can write in Japanese, right?”

“Yes.”

“You majored in music, so we’ll see how you’re going to do in our entertainment column. Welcome on board.”

Jihoon smiles and thanks him, but he’s feeling some guilt in his heart.

Just when he wants to go out of the boss’ office, there’s another young man running in, almost making Jihoon fall on the ground.

“I’m sorry!” The boy says. He can’t be older than eighteen. “The police called. They found another body without heart!” He informs the man, a little out of breath, in rapid Japanese. He has to be a native.

The boss’ eyes lit up and he leans on the desk.

“Great, if we hurry it’ll make it to the afternoon edition. Make that happen.”

“Yes sir!” The boy runs out of the office as quickly as he came.

Well, this will be interesting.

***

In his first day of work that young boy from before shows him around. He listens and nods along, but uses his first opportunity to ask about that body.

“So you said something about someone being murdered?”

“Oh yes,” the boy says. “Another young man without a heart. This is scary, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t look scared, rather excited, and Jihoon has to stop himself from laughing, because it’s so cute.

“Did the police found any traces of the murderer?”

“Not yet,” he says with a sigh. “Everything is one hundred percent clear. It’s just like a ghost did it.”

“Maybe it was a ghost?”

The boy cracks a smile.

“Yeah, maybe. I heard you believe in them here in Korea?”

Jihoon shrugs.

“Some believe, some not.” Suddenly, there’s the memory of Seungcheol’s girl from yesterday replaying in his head, her words about bad aura around his house make him bite his lip slightly.

Fortunately, the boy doesn’t notice his sudden change and continues with the tour around the office.

He somehow starts feeling a little uncomfortable.

***

This time when Jihoon knocks on Kim Mingyu’s door, he’s not opening. It took a lot of courage for him to go there to talk. He doesn’t know if the man is inside and he doesn’t want to meet him or if he’s somewhere else. Actually Jihoon doesn’t know if he’s jobless or not, and if not then where he works. And it definitely shouldn’t be like that, considering that he already knows how his lips taste and how his hands feel on his hips.

He knocks once again and after a while he leans to put his ear to the door and listen if there’s any sound.

“What do you want?”

Jihoon jumps and turns around. He could swear his heart flipped.

“You scared me,” he says to Kim Mingyu, putting his hand to his chest. How did he manage to walk so quietly? The wooden floor in the house would creak even if a mouse stepped on it, not mentioning a grown man. Jihoon was always failing to keep quiet when he got back at night, because every plank seemed to have it’s own sound.

“Why are you here?”

“To talk.” Jihoon crosses his hands on his chest.

“About what?”

“Guess.”

Mingyu avoids Jihoon’s stern look and doesn’t reply.

“Listen, I just want to know what you meant. You kissed me so randomly. Why? Why did you run away after? We don’t even _know_ each other. You didn’t introduce yourself to me. I just- just want to understand.”

The man chews on his lower lip before finally looking back at Jihoon. He’s visibly nervous. It’s interesting to see him like that, because their previous encounters made Jihoon think he’s cold and emotionless and yet here he is, showing something besides indifference.

“I don’t really know,” he says quietly.

“You don’t really know?” Jihoon scoffs. The man just rolls his eyes and also crosses his arms on his chest.

“I did it because I wanted to. I just thought you look really good and you told me I look handsome so I kissed you. Are you satisfied?”

Jihoon blinks.

And blinks once again.

“People don’t kiss random people just because they want to. Or because they got called handsome.”

“Well, I did.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you ran away.”

Mingyu looks to the side and doesn’t answer.

“Kim Mingyu.”

He looks at Jihoon, surprised that he knows his name. The smaller man just raises his eyebrow. He won’t let it go.

“I ran away because I shouldn’t to it. Now. You have your explanation. Happy? If you’d excuse me...” Mingyu tries to go into his room, but Jihoon blocks the door.

“Why you shouldn’t? You have a wife or...”

Mingyu sighs. “No. Why do you want to know so much?”

“Because that kiss was actually very nice and I wouldn’t mind doing that again,” he says, feeling his cheeks become red, “but only if you want it too. And if we get to know each other better.”

“Oh.”

They’re just looking at each other, Jihoon sure now even the tips of his ears are as red as tomato, and Mingyu looking a little bit lost.

“Nevermind.” Jihoon passes by him, ready to give up, but-

“Wait.” He turns around. The taller man bites his lower lip before offering him his hand. “I’m Kim Mingyu.”

Jihoon takes it in his. It’s significantly bigger than his, skin darker and surprisingly soft to touch.

“Lee Jihoon,” he finally introduces himself for the second time, just to be polite. “How old are you?” He asks.

Mingyu hesitates for a second. “Twenty four.”

He looks older, with all his serious expressions and aura around him.

“I’m twenty five. Do you want to go out some day for a coffee?”

Mingyu nods, and Jihoon can swear there’s a shadow of smile on his face.

***

From perspective of three weeks, Jihoon can confidently say his life became better since that day. He has a job that isn’t that satisfying, but he finally makes money and can support himself, and his relation with Mingyu…

Well, there _is_ a relation at least. Nothing happened since that kiss, but he doesn’t mind it. They sometimes meet and talk, greet each other on the corridor. Jihoon got to know that Mingyu is working at some company in accounts office, comes from the northern part of the country and that his smile is the cutest thing ever.

Jihoon might have fallen a little bit in love with him.

He’s at work, trying to write an article about some new music record. Yuto, the boy who showed him the office at the first day, sits beside him and helps him if he has problems with some words or grammar. He can see the boy feels proud with helping him like that; he usually just does every shit other reporters want him to do, from making coffee to running to the other part of Seoul just to get one thing they need for their articles. Now he feels important, and it warms Jihoon’s heart.

“I wonder what happened to the murderer,” he says at one point. Jihoon looks at him curiously.

“Why?”

“Like, he killed, and then he disappeared. he police didn’t catch him, so… Where is he? Did he go to another city? Or maybe he’s waiting for a good opportunity to strike again?” He hums thoughtfully. Jihoon shakes his head.

“You should try and join the police if you’re that interested,” he tells him.

“No, I don’t think I would be a good cop...” Yuto sighs. Jihoon nods and goes back to his article. He writes the last words and takes the paper out of his typewriter. He gives it to Yuto so the boy can check everything once again before he can submit it to the editor.

Now Jihoon starts being curious again.

So... what happened to the murderer?

***

When Jihoon comes home after work, he’s completely wet. It started raining basically from nowhere, and he didn’t have any jacket or umbrella, because it’s still warm summer. He starts unbuttoning his shirt, but when he’s already taking it off, there’s a knock on his door. With a sigh, he puts it back on, having some decency, even if he’s uncomfortable and wants to wear something more comfortable and _dry_.

There’s Mingyu at the other side of the doorstep, and whatever he wanted to say is stuck in his throat as he just stares at Jihoon.

“Mingyu?”

The younger man suddenly pushes him back into his room and comes in with him, closing the door behind himself. Then he puts his hands on Jihoon’s cheeks and bending down he kisses him.

The smaller boy sighs, parting his lips. Kissing is nice. Kissing Mingyu is _very_ nice. But why so suddenly again? Jihoon grabs Mingyu’s wrists and pulls back.

“Why now?” he asks simply, his brain already melted and not able to think straight.

“Because you look good.”

Jihoon chuckles.

“I’m literally soaked because of the rain.”

“And you look good even though you are,” he says and dives back to kiss the older male. Jihoon feels droplets of water falling from his hair on his chest and the floor, his pants are sticking to his legs, but he doesn’t dare to interrupt this moment.

The kiss gets slowly hotter, Jihoon’s hands starting to unbutton Mingyu’s shirt. The younger shivers and breaks the kiss, so it’s easier for him, and then lowers them both on Jihoon’s bed. It gets more and more passionate, Mingyu kissing down from Jihoon’s jaw to his chest, when he suddenly stops.

Only Jihoon’s heavy panting can be hear in the room, his chest going up and down with Mingyu hovering over him. He tilts his head up to look at Jihoon and there’s something different in his eyes. Something… Wild?

The younger rapidly stands up.

“What?”

“I- I can’t, I’m sorry,” he says before running away, again.

Jihoon also gets up, but he already hears the front door of the home opening and closing. Not feeling discouraged, he quickly puts his shoes back on and buttons his shirt up, this time also taking his jacket and running after Mingyu.

He doesn’t know where the taller could head, but he goes out in the rain with firm will of finding him and talking seriously to him. Is it because he doesn’t like the fact that Jihoon is a man? Or maybe hates himself for being attracted to a man? No, that can’t be it, considering how eager he was to initiate the kiss.

So what was it?

The rain fortunately already stopped, so Jihoon goes around all their neighbourhood looking for the tall man, not wanting to give up easily. But he could go literally anywhere, and the chances of Jihoon simply missing him are very high.

It’s already dark when he is out of their neighbourhood, not really knowing if he should continue or go home.

Then, he hears something from an alley nearby. As there are basically no people around anymore, because of the dark and the weather, so he goes there to check it, hoping it’s not some stray dog.

When he goes to the alley, his breath stops, and he can swear his heart stops as well.

There’s a person crouching over the other, but more than a person it’s a visibly lifeless body. From where he’s standing he can’t make out what the person is doing to the other.

But when the clouds uncover the moon, he can’t _not_ recognize the man with broad back hunched, hair messy, and the shirt, the same shirt he was trying to get rid of not so long ago.

He knows he should run, but he doesn’t listen to the instinct in his head, instead whispering a name.

“Mingyu.”

The man stops his actions and after a few seconds that seemed to have no end, he turns around.

His shirt is still unbuttoned, and there are dark stains on it, as well as on his chest and face. His hands are dirty, and there’s something sad in his eyes.

Jihoon makes one step ahead.

“Don’t!” Mingyu says. “Please, don’t come here. It can be dangerous. I- _I_ can be dangerous.”

Jihoon makes another step.

“It’s you? You killed all those people?” His tone is calm, _too_ calm. Maybe it’s shock.

“It’s not like I had a choice!”

“I don’t understand.” Another step. “Mingyu, what-”

He doesn’t finish, because he remembers something. A legend he’s heard a long time ago from his mother, who wanted to warn him to not go alone into the woods.

A legend about nine-tailed fox who kills young boys and eats their hearts for immortality.

Suddenly everything starts falling into place, even if it’s not really obvious. The dark aura around the house the girl was talking about. Mingyu’s steps that couldn’t be heard. His canines that were almost too sharp for a human. The look in Mingyu’s eyes that wasn’t like the look of 24 year old guy should be. And only the one element doesn’t match.

“I thought _gumiho_ is a woman.”

Mingyu’s expression darkens. He finally stands up and comes up a little to Jihoon. The smaller man is thankful to him for doing it, because now he doesn’t have to look at the dead body, only glancing up to look at Mingyu’s face.

“Just in the legends.”

There’s something weird settling in his stomach. Like on one hand satisfaction from figuring it out, on the other… fear. Now he can see the blood on Mingyu’s face clearer, making it more real for him.

He just ate that person’s heart.

The realization hits him so hard he feels like collapsing on the ground. Fortunately, Mingyu is quick to make those few steps and hold him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m _so_ sorry. I really didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t understand.”

Mingyu makes sure he won’t fall without his hands around him, and wipes his palms on his pants before cupping Jihoon’s cheeks.

“If the fox lives long enough, they can take on their human form. And they can become fully human after 1000 days of not eating,” he explains, his eyes not leaving Jihoon’s. “And it’s not easy. It’s our nature to feast on human’s hearts. I came to Seoul to start my thousand days of starving to become human. But I met you. And something about you makes me go crazy, makes me even more hungry than I usually am.” His voice comes out strained, the words hard to say, and Jihoon has to remind himself to breath once in a while. “That’s why I killed them. Because I was afraid I’ll hurt you, and only being full made me feel safe, feel like I won’t lose control. And today- I really didn’t know what I would do if we went a little further. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

Jihoon doesn’t know what to say. Would anyone know what to say after a confession like that? Probably not.

A moment of silence passes with Jihoon debating on what words should he use in this situation, when Mingyu speaks up again.

“I think I need to move somewhere else.”

“Why?” Jihoon’s question comes out too quickly and he blushes. Hopefully Mingyu can’t see it in the poor lighting.

(Or maybe he can, Jihoon doesn’t know how good is night vision of foxes, especially nine-tailed foxes in a human form.)

“I’ll never become fully human with you around.”

 _You don’t have to_ , Jihoon thinks. _You can stay as you are. Stay here._ But he knows he shouldn’t say that aloud. He hesitantly brings his hands up, to rest on Mingyu’s still bare chest. Only now he realizes how cold the night is, but Mingyu’s body still is warm, in contrary to his, that starts to tremble.

“Then go,” he tells him instead. “Go, and maybe… Maybe we can start again after you come back.”

Mingyu nods firmly.

***

Jihoon doesn’t remember much from their way back to their house. The stress, shock, surprise, everything starts leaving him, making him feel completely exhausted, not only mentally but also physically.

In his room Mingyu carefully helps him undress and change into fresh clothes. He cleans any signs of blood he left on him and puts him to bed, tucking him under two blankets.

When he wakes up the next day, his whole body hurts and he knows he caught a cold. Well, who wouldn’t catch it after few hours of walking around in wet clothes?

But the first thing he does is going to the room beside his. He doesn’t bother to knock this time, just opens it.

Of course, it’s completely empty, like no one has ever lived there.

Jihoon sighs and goes back to his room. He looks at the calendar.

One thousand days, huh?


	2. spring 1936

“Tell me, Jihoon,” one of his new co-workers ask. He finally managed to find a job that satisfies him more than that in the newspaper – he’s piano teacher in a small school now. They went out after classes for a dinner with a small group of teaches, to know each other better. “Why don’t you have a wife?”

“Hey, that’s not nice to ask,” the violin teacher, Hong Jisoo, points out. “Don’t ask such personal questions.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jihoon assures him. “I just… haven’t found any right woman yet.” _And won’t find her ever_ , he thinks, giving himself mentally a pat on his back for managing not to lie, and yet not tell the whole truth about not being interested in women at all.

“You’re getting old, buddy,” the previous teacher says. He now remembers his name’s Kwon Soonyoung. “Time to think about children.”

“You’re the one to talk!” teacher with the family name Yoon says. Jihoon’s can’t remember his name in this moment, but he remembers he teaches some traditional instruments. “You’re the same age as Jihoon, and I don’t see you having children.”

“At least I have a wife.”

“Not everyone needs a wife,” Jeon Wonwoo points out.

Fortunately they soon find the other topic to ask Jihoon about, which is studies in Tokio, and they leave the talk about wives. Their meeting goes well, and Jihoon is pleased that those teachers are good company.

He goes back to his new apartment. Now, after working in that Japanese newspaper, he had enough money to get a whole apartment instead of just one room, and he could even send some money to his parents, just like he had planned.

He stops when he sees a tall figure in front of his building.

 _So one thousand days already passed_ , he thinks. At first he thought it would feel so long, almost three years of waiting, if not longer if Mingyu gave in to his instincts at some point. But then that started to feel so unreal, like the night in the alley didn’t happen at all, like he’s never had that handsome mysterious neighbour.

But now everything is proved to be real, with Mingyu himself standing there, only a couple of meters away, very real.

He turns his head when he hears Jihoon coming up to him. There’s something different in his face; it’s somehow softer than before. He doesn’t give out this cold aura anymore.

But now he smiles, and his smile is as cute as before.

Jihoon stops right before him, tilting his head up to look the taller man in the eyes.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

It’s been so long, Jihoon doesn’t know what he should do. His body wants to embrace the younger – no, wait, he’s thousands years old… or maybe not? since he’s real human for a short time, doesn’t that make him actually younger? or-

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Mingyu says. “I’d like to drink some hot tea.” There’s a confident smirk on his face, and Jihoon wants to punch him for that.

“I live here, maybe you’d like to be my guest?” he answers anyway in a similar tone.

“With pleasure.”

Jihoon can’t help it and finally smiles.

“Good.” He looks around and sees no one, so he grabs Mingyu’s hand and leads them to his apartment.

They have a lot to talk about. But when Mingyu’s lips find his, Jihoon’s eager to leave the talking for later.

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is @bbywooz and my curious cat is @bbykenta, you can come talk to me there!!


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